Butterflies and Wedding Day Blues
by LunaSeasMoonChild
Summary: Two-shot, set in the future: "She was not running away anymore. She's going to turn back and chase the elusive butterflies." It takes a bunch of butterflies for Blair to realize that the groom at the altar is not who she should marry.
1. Runaway Blair

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN ANYTHING.**

**_Author's notes:_** Inspired by the movie "Sweet Home Alabama". Plus, this came to me while I was wallowing in darkness of my room after watching 3.18. F--K!!! *RAGE RAGE RAGE INDIGNATION* I am terribly displeased. I'M FUCKING PISSED OFF. So now, I'm in a depressive rut and trying to release tension and disappointment through fanfic writing. My comeback fic after months of only academic work. I'm working on this more than I'm working on my thesis this summer. X_x

Plus, the idea for this fic was also inspired by a comment by a Chair fan, who said that "Chuck and Blair are kismet…" I don't remember who and I don't remember where, but I would like to credit that person.

**Constructive criticism is most welcome.**

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_**Butterflies and Wedding Day Blues**_  
Summary:  
[Set in the future] Blair's not running away anymore. She's going to turn back and chase the elusive butterflies.

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**Chapter I: Runaway Blair**

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The congregation was waiting. The priest was waiting. The groom was waiting. They were all ready, and waiting.

Except for the bride. The bride who had locked herself away in the small room at the back of the church.

"Blair!" Serena knocked furiously. "We're behind schedule!"

"Just a few last-minute retouches!" Came the buffered reply from behind the wooden door.

"You arrived here with your hair and make-up done!"

"I still need a few fixing!"

"Then let me in so I can help you!"

"You'll only slow me down! Just get in line and I'll be out in a minute."

Serena sighed and turned to the bride's father. Harold shuffled closer and knocked softly. "Blair-bear? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Daddy! I'm fine! I'm just fixing my veil! I'll be out soon!"

"I don't understand why she's taking this long! Is she getting cold feet?" Serena whispered under her breath.

Harold just shrugged at his daughter's Maid-of-Honor. He then turned back to the door. "Alright, sweetheart, don't take too long. We'll be waiting out here until you're ready."

Dorota came to join the two by the door. "Miss Blair come out on her own time. She need to prepare alone. We must get in line because we walk first before Miss Blair."

"But I have to go to her—" Serena protested, but Harold gently but persistently led Serena away, who was resisting his hold on her shoulders. "It's obvious she wants to be alone right now. She's bound to come out sooner or later. Now all we can do is wait for her."

Serena could only nod in doubt as she let Harold lead her away, towards the awaiting procession of bridesmaids, groomsmen, flower girls, and ring bearer.

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Blair breathed deeply and gazed at the small bouquet of peonies on the dresser, with a Monarch butterfly aloft a pink bloom, like a painting in still life. The presence of the bouquet was on the church's provision, as it symbolized prosperity, good fortune, joyful life, and a happy marriage.**[1]**

Blair looked at herself in the mirror and felt liberated. She nodded at her reflection in determination and encouragement. Today, she was finally going to be honest. She was not running away anymore. She was going to turn back and chase the elusive butterflies. With one last wistful look at the butterfly-on-bouquet tableau, Blair walked to the door and unlocked it, just like her heart.

The entourage supposed to walk down the aisle before the bride turned at the sound of the door opening. The bride stepped out in a glorious ball gown dress and matching elbow gloves. However, the bride had no make-up on and her chignon was undone, her jewelry (consisting of her grandmother's diamond choker and matching diamond bracelet) was gone, the bridal bouquet was nowhere in sight and her veil was missing.

"Blair, what—" Serena went ignored along with Harold as Blair quickly slipped past the bridal entourage and strode down the aisle like it was a catwalk for a fashion show.

The musical band played a few notches faster so the bridal march could match the bride's pace, but their music dwindled halfway when they realized something was amiss. The congregation, mainly due to shock and confusion, did not bother to rise as customary when the bride entered.

Blair proceeded down the aisle up to the altar, not stopping for anyone even as her mother stood with her mouth open, unable to vocalize her thoughts into coherent words.

Her groom, Anthony, stood in front of the priest, not having moved from his position.

"Blair?" His head tilted to the side in confusion. He did not budge from his position, and Blair walked up to him, right where the bride is supposed to be. The priest looked baffled; he wasn't sure if he should start the mass or just stand and wait for whatever signal to be given to him to begin the ceremony, because the bride and the groom were in their respective proper positions, even though the traditional wedding processional wasn't followed.

Wordlessly, Blair held out her right hand. "This is yours." Between her thumb and forefinger, the square-cut diamond ring Anthony presented her when he proposed.

Anthony was stoic, unmoving. He blinked at the ring's diamond, Grade H princess cut, which glimmered as if boasting its worth of eight carats. But Blair would not be stopped by his silence.

"I'm supposed to feel ecstatic to start and share the following years with you. But I can't feel anything but dread on this day."

The congregation collectively gasped, and she could just feel the cringe in their expressions at the audacity of Blair's cruel confession. The priest took a deep breath and walked off to take a seat nearby, leaving the bride and groom in front of the altar to sort out their issues.

"You've always been so kind. _Too_ kind, in fact." Averting her gaze, Blair's bare left hand reached for his and placed the ring on his palm, and closed his stiff fingers over the piece of jewelry. Blair let go, but his hand remained suspended in midair.

"And I've always been selfish and self-centered." Blair looked up at him. A deep breath, and Blair wiped away the fallen tear on her cheek and looked straight into the green eyes of her fiancé. "For the first time in our relationship, I'm going to think about you." Blair took a deep breath, and gently smiled in apology. "I don't believe we should get married, Anthony. It's not fair to you when I love you only half-heartedly."

Anthony was rendered speechless, he opened his mouth, but could not utter anything at all. Not a curse to his bride who was abandoning him in front of the altar, not a plea for his bride to reconsider, not a demand for explanation from his bride as to why she suddenly decided to cancel, on the day itself, the wedding she had planned meticulously for months.

Blair placed an affectionate hand on his cheek. "You're a good man, Anthony. I don't want you to settle for me."

They had been together for three years, had known each other for five. He was handsome, blonde with green eyes, an English literature major. He was pliant and gentle, like a Nate who was more affectionate, devoted, and faithful. He was every woman's dream, and she finally had her prince who doted on her. Blair had appreciated the doldrums of the relationship, and relished in the stability. It was only now that she realized their relationship was far from stable; it would never hold because of its feeble, scrawny basis. _Better bored than ashamed of myself, _she reasoned once, but love was not meant to be that way. If you love someone, they could be the grimiest person and still, the reflection they would see in your eyes would make them feel the fairest because they truly were in your eyes. She could now accept that the depth of love was nothing to be afraid of; it was one cliff that you could be safe jumping off, an abyss you should willingly fall into, because there was no bottom unless you searched for a way out.

Anthony, with all his kindness, never spoke a word of disapproval, but she could see it in his eyes, feel it in his averted gaze that always made her silently retreat to the bathroom in reprimand of herself. She realized how tiring it was, always striving to meet the approval of others, that she could not even live for herself. She wanted to find those secure arms where she wouldn't have to be judged when she admitted to being tired of being strong. Arms that welcomed her and accepted her even at her lowest, when even she could not accept herself.

"The truth is," Blair's eyes gleamed tearfully, "I gave away my heart pin to someone years ago, and in return he gave me his prized scarf." The admission pushed the tears from its barrier. "I never recovered my pin and I never returned his scarf."**[2]** Blair's tears fell in nostalgia of that sweet, sweet summer in between an end and a beginning. And it was at that moment of illumination, that for all this time, her heart had been on a standstill when she had thought that she had moved on, that her feelings had been halted in flowing like a river with a dam. And at this moment, she was breaking that dam, and letting the torrents run through her veins, and for the first time in a long time, she felt refreshed, reborn, as this surge overtook her senses and sensibility.

"Are you sure?" Anthony's voice was hoarse as he looked away from the hand that clenched the engagement ring, and stared at his supposed bride.

"Yes. I won't deny anymore."

Anthony's eyes became glassy, but Blair could not feel guilt at setting him free. She had no remorse when she knew she would only chain him down to eventual unhappiness.

Blair never fought for anyone or anything. She pursued relentlessly to acquire what she wanted, but if it should slip from her grasp, she never bent to retrieve it. She could never fight to keep what she was losing especially when it was made clear to her that it was breaking away from her. She never did. She never struggled to grasp on a fleeting thing within her reach, because it hurt so much more to hold on. She should know from her relationship with Nate. She ignored the signs, and believed in the illusory splendor of their relationship. She held on to Nate for so long, she hurt herself and in turn, she hurt Chuck, who had wanted her to pull through her blindness that was damaging her.

Anthony picked up her hand and gently kissed her knuckle. "I wish you well on your quest then, darling." Anthony could never say no to her, could never scold her, could never say anything hurtful to her.

Blair threw herself into one last embrace of gratitude with Anthony. "Thank you," she breathed out before kissing him on the cheek and sprinting down the aisle once more. It was only now that the congregation, in disbelief, rose as the runaway bride made her exit, leaving flashes of camera behind her runway.

"1812!" Was the predominant shout amidst the scandalous whispers and indignant roar. Blair recognized Nate's voice. She would've thanked him, but she was in too much of a hurry. She had let years pass by, and the urgency that drove her stamina compelled her to waste not a day, not an hour, not a minute more.

Blair had never felt such an elation and freedom from running. She bypassed everyone, even Serena who called out the brunette's name and reached out a hand to grasp her elbow. But Blair shrugged her off without sparing a glance at the blonde's direction. Blair's vision could only see what was in front of her, like it was restricted by blinders with her determination to make it out of the stifling interior of the church. She would not be halted; she would not be sidetracked; she would not be delayed. As soon as Blair burst through the double doors, a cab stopped at the foot of the stairs.

"Sorry I'm late," Eric stepped out of the cab in confusion. "The limo broke down—"

"Hold that cab!" Blair shouted as she struggled down the cement steps, careful not to trip with her gown and heels as it impeded her haste.

"What are you doing?" Eric held the door open as Blair attempted to get inside the cab, her gown's volume making the task a tad bit difficult. "It's your wedding day."

"Not anymore," Blair huffed in exertion and adrenaline as Eric gathered the train of her dress and stuffed it on floor of the cab before shutting the door. "Cash!" She held out her hand and Eric obliged, taking out his money clip and surrendering the wad of cash to her through the window.

"To the New York Palace Hotel, the fastest that you can go," she dictated her destination to the driver, who took off hurriedly as she requested.

The yellow cab was now blending with the flow of New York traffic. Blair gripped the white satin of her dress. Her hands were shaking in trepidation, but mostly from the exhilaration she felt from the overwhelming desire that pumped her heart, causing the impassioned throbbing in her ears. It had been a long time since she had felt the presence of her heartbeat.

_You can't tell me you ain't feeling butterflies..._

Blair chuckled as the radio played "I Call It Love" by Lionel Richie. She laid her head back, and closed her eyes with a smile, savoring the words of the song.

_Cause they call It  
We call It  
You call It  
I call It Love…_

The air in the taxi was stifling. Blair was sweating either from the heat or her physical exertion earlier. She fanned her face using her hand, and when she casually lifted her head after a sigh, the driver's license of the cabby caught her eye.

"Papillon?" Blair read aloud in disbelief as the song continued to play on the background. "Your name's Papillon?"

"Yeah," the male cabbie answered, curiously looking at her in his rearview mirror. "It's French."

"Meaning butterfly." Blair said as she laughed breathlessly. It was either glorious coincidence or the hand of kismet encouragingly pushing her back to her destination.

Blair should have known. Looking back now, the signs started appearing after she miraculously acquired an opening at the Plaza Hotel for the reception. Since then, she had been seeing random solitary butterflies fluttering from time to time, each encounter marked with a different kind of butterfly. A Pearl Crescent on the lamp by her bedside. A Dreamy Duskywing on the windowsill of her bedroom in the Waldorf penthouse. A Wild Indigo Duskywing perched on the store window of Tiffany's. A Sleepy Duskywing roaming at the Waldorf Designs atelier. A Persius Duskywing at a bench in Central Park. A Black Swallowtail fluttered across her path in front of Bendel's. A Spicebush Swallowtail spotted on the way to Sak's. A Zebra Swallowtail landed on her shoulder while hanging out in an outdoor café with Serena.**[3]**

"A bit queer, isn't it?" The cabbie commented.

It didn't occur to Blair that maybe the male cabby's statement was pertaining to gender, but all she could think of was that out of the taxis in New York, Eric took a cab whose driver's name meant butterfly as the youngest van der Woodsen came late for her wedding, but just in time for her departure. "Queer, indeed," Blair said in awe as she let her back fall to the cushioned seat, a serenity accompanying her contemplation and recognition of inevitability that would make her realize that she had to turn back.

It was her turn to chase him. She had to do it, because he was the one who hadn't let go. It was her chance to chase after what she had left behind.

The cab stopped in front of the gates of the Palace hotel. With the gown presenting great difficulty, Blair stepped out and handed over all the cash Eric gave her (the driver's eyes widened at the thick wad of ten, fifty, hundred dollar bills) before she turned and hurried to the hotel.

"Hey, Miss! You overpayed!" the cabbie stepped out and shouted after her.

"There's no such thing as overtipping!" Blair shouted back, not bothering to glance back at the stunned but ecstatic cabbie. He was a butterfly; he deserved to be tipped generously.

When Blair made it to the lobby of Palace, she was panting from her run.

"Miss Waldorf?" One of the security men approached her. It was Rick, one of Chuck's most loyal employees, proven during the underhand takeover of the Empire. He was once a bouncer in one of the NJBC's favorite bar hangouts back in high school. Once Chuck acquired the Empire, Rick had been hired as security (he was head now). Chuck offered him the job with salary higher than the normal wage, having learned of the man's monetary difficulties as a single parent (his wife left him) in financially supporting his son. Rick was just like Arthur; he had witnessed Chuck and Blair together and was aware of a few discrete details of the relationship but never breathed a word about it.

"Rick! Chuck's here, right?" Blair asked breathlessly, ignoring the curious frown on the man's face.

"Yes, Mr. Bass is here, but he hasn't left his suite in a week."

"I need to see him."

"He's not seeing anyone right now and has given firm orders not to let in any visitor, even family."

"I have to see him _right now_," Blair tried to portray the urgency in her voice and words.

"I'm sorry, Miss Waldorf, but Mr. Bass' instructions were clear." Rick held firm, his staunch refusal conveying her lack of authority and attesting to his unfaltering fealty as that of a suit of armor standing guard.

"We let _five years_ pass, Rick," Blair's eyes filled with tears of regret that she willed back, because she didn't want to cry in front of everyone in the vicinity. "I don't want to waste another unnecessary minute or hour and especially not a day. You have to let me see him, please." Blair had never begged someone with a blue-collar job before.

The intensity of her feelings, the seemingly limitless length she would go for him had intimidated her. That she would do everything, even compromise herself, for a person that she was not even obligated by blood to love. Not even for Serena would she do what she would do for Chuck. It frightened her, so she turned and ran away. She chose easy, comfortable. She did not let her mind wonder why with Anthony, it always felt lacking, when he did not even fall short of her expectations.

"He won't see anyone, Miss Waldorf."

"Please, I just need the key to 1812." Rick uncomfortably squirmed and looked around. "Please, Rick. You know Chuck, and you know me. You know _us_. Please, for once, make an exception," Because Rick never went against Chuck's orders. "Let me pass."

Rick studied her for a minute, seemingly weighing the situation. He had always been fond of Chuck, maybe because Rick understood the loneliness from the negligence of an absentee father. Despite the public's popular notion of the young billionaire, Rick knew first hand that Chuck was a good person and that he had been uncharacteristically despondent since Blair had left. Tentatively, Rick reached inside his coat.

"Return it to me later," Rick said as he pulled out the key and handed it in Blair's possession, entrusting the security of his job and his boss's possible happiness in the brunette's hands.

"Thank you," Blair breathed out in relief as she darted to the elevator. She jammed the down button and tapped her foot, willing the elevator to descend faster. Finally, a ding signaled its arrival

"Oh no!" A little girl cried as she dropped a plastic container, spilling its contents on the floor of the elevator. She knelt down to pick up what she had littered on the floor, but her mother took her hand and dragged her away, telling her to leave the mess for the staff to clean up later. Blair brushed past the mother (whose surprised gaze followed Blair) and daughter to get into the empty elevator, which ascended with her alone inside.

The heels were hurting her feet, so she took off her heels to leave it in a corner of the elevator, free for anyone's claiming. The floor was slippery due to her stockings, but she guessed that as soon as she stepped off the elevator and into the carpeted hallway, it would be much easier to walk. While Blair was lifting the hem of her dress to kick her heels to the side, she noticed that there were purple paper punch outs of butterflies on the floor.

"Like there's something in my stomach, fluttering," Blair whispered to herself, remembering the confession of a boy on the eve of her seventeenth birthday as she glanced at the purple paper butterflies scattered at the foot of the elevator. This must've been what the little girl spilled earlier. Blair wanted to laugh as it seemed that the unseen hand of Fortune was making sure Blair did not get lost on her way as it made the trail of butterflies.

The ding that signaled her arrival at her destination was like an alarm of a clock that was waking her out of a stupor, and now, however late it was, she realized that this was the inevitable confrontation she had avoided for five years.

It had been years since she trekked towards 1812. Bart had given Chuck the suite for his personal use when he turned 12. Since then, 1812 had become the NJBC's clubhouse. After graduation, Chuck moved into a new suite to commemorate a turn in his life (secretly, he found a new suite after his much delayed declaration of the three words, eight letters because he wanted to carry Blair across the threshold). 1812 had been a lair of hedonism for him, and he refused to go back and reside in a place that had reminded him too much of the lack of his father's presence. And although it was now vacant, Chuck never opened it for others.

Blair used the key Rick had given her to open the door to 1812. Tentatively, she opened the door, and the sight made her gasp. She lifted her gown and slowly stepped into the suite.

Littered on the floor were numerous different shapes of butterfly punch outs, and scattered all over the place were pictures of them, of Chuck and Blair. On every flat surface (on the floor, every table, every counter, even the couches) there was a picture of the two of them, even from before they were a couple, even before the night of Victrola. Blair realized, surrounded by a montage of their pictures, that Chuck and Blair existed even before Victrola. They had not only been lovers, they were friends, they were partners-in-crime, they were companions, they were allies.

Blair closed the door behind her and proceeded inside the suite. She took great care with her steps, cautiously tiptoeing inside the room to avoid as much as possible stepping on the paper butterflies and photos.

Was this what it felt like to be surrounded by memories? An onslaught of reminiscence engulfed her, like a tidal wave crashing on the surf to reveal a buried bottle underneath the sand, its glass cradling a hidden message. Like an amnesiac walking through an oneiric haze of the forgotten part of her, she gazed in nostalgia at all the fleeting moments framed forever in photographs.

She walked further into the room, and finally spotted him. There he was, laid out on the left side of the bed; the right portion of the bed was strewn with photographs and paper butterflies. The side table nearest him had an empty bottle of Scotch and she wondered how long it had taken him to empty the caramel liquid inside it.

She lifted her voluminous skirt and hurried to his side, suddenly fearful of his seemingly serene repose. She knew how destructive he could be, a habit she had in common with him. And just like with her form of self-punishment, she knew it could kill. She sat by his side, and even then he did not stir as the bed lowered under her seating. Chuck remained oblivious to her proximity.

Gingerly, Blair laid her hand on his cheek. She had always marveled how the lineaments of Chuck's countenance molded perfectly in the contours of her hands. Chuck remained somnolent, indicating how deeply drowned he was in alcohol. Wanting desperately to feel his skin against hers fingers, she hastily pulled off her gloves and unceremoniously threw it to the floor as if they were gauntlets cast down, though she was not sure if it were herself or him or fate she was challenging. Cradling his face in her hand as her other hand laid over his heart, she felt the burn of the alcohol on his face and his even breathing. Relief rushed within her as she drew a shaky breath, causing a few tears loose from her eyes.

She always thought she was the princess waiting by the balcony for a handsome noble to serenade her. She never thought she would be the knight rushing to the palace tower to seek a solitary prince confined in his chambers and save him from the curse.

So, she kissed him gently on the lips, waiting to see if she could awaken the slumbering prince and pull him from his dreamless sleep.

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**_A/n:_** I am indebted to this fic (and _**Adam Lambert's "What Do You Want From Me"**_ which I appreciated due to the Chair fic _Fake Empire_), coz it revived my drive to write. I'm working on my thesis (3 one-act plays+1 generic essay) so I really need my writing groove. I'm on a roll. I'm dedicating time to writing and resisting the temptation of spending the hours just reading Chair fics.

I burn for Chair. Especially now that it's being fed with the indignation of what the writers have done to Chair. Fuck THEM! XP

Do you feel my frustration? They made Chair so weak that they were easily torn apart. I fucking hate them. And what? They're going to win over viewers by replacing C with D? Who's next, E? Are they going through the whole fucking alphabet? FUCK THEM!!! What chemistry with Brooklyn?! That's bullshit!!! Compile all interactions of Blair with that Douche (and I mean EVERY SECOND) from all seasons and I doubt the compilation would reach the length of one episode. I never thought much about Dan, but my blood boils at the prospect of him with B. GRRAWR! I'm FUCKING PISSED!!! Fuck those shallow, shit-headed, unskilled writers!!! I'd rather read fics than watch the show. I've lost it for GG. They cut off the reason I bothered to watch and continued to watch the show.

This week's episode was unacceptable. After all Chair has been through, they let go that easily? I know what Chuck did was horrible, but it's OOC for Blair to just let go. This is the girl who held on for years to a boyfriend who loved and slept with her best friend and didn't really appreciate her. And let's look at Chuck's devotion to his father. Bart's the crappiest parent ever and yet Chuck did all he could to win his approval. Chuck and Blair aren't the type to let go and give up so easily. If S04 is gonna start with B and Serena's ex, GG may as well be cut off midway S04. Coz I'm not supporting GG anymore. All hail fanfiction!

*RANT MODE*

**[1]** I already mentioned this in another Chair fic of mine, "A Lifetime's Repercussion of a Dare". I found the flower meanings on different sites. They all basically say the same thing. I do not own nor did I make it up.

**[2]** Think of it as a paraphrasing of the line in "Sweet Home Alabama":

**Melanie Carmichael:** You see the truth is, I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart, and I never really got it back.

**[3] **These are real butterflies. I had to research about it. X_x There's a pattern: 1-4-3 for 3words8letters. XD

Pearl Crescent (Nymphalinae)

Dreamy Duskywing (Pyrginae)  
Wild Indigo Duskywing (Pyrginae)  
Sleepy Duskywing (Pyrginae)  
Persius Duskywing (Pyrginae)

Black Swallowtail (Papilioninae)  
Spicebush Swallowtail (Papilioninae)  
Zebra Swallowtail (Papilioninae)

**_SOURCE:_** http(:)(/)(/)www(.)thebutterflysite(.)com(/)newyork-butterflies(.)shtml

**[4]** **Butterfly trivia** (to better understand this fic) that you [readers] may be interested in cause it sure as hell did catch my eye and made the Romanticist in me tingly all over XD:

The Mandarin Chinese word for butterfly is "hu-tieh". "Tieh" means "70 years", therefore butterflies have become a symbol for a long life. In this culture butterflies have also become **representative of young men in love**.

In the Japanese culture butterflies are thought to be **representative of young maidens and marital bliss**.

There are many links with butterflies in mythology from all over the world, many of which, in particular Greek mythology, **link butterflies to the human soul**. The Ancient Greeks also **considered butterflies as the souls of those who had passed away.**

**In ancient Greek the word for butterfly is "Psyche", which translated means "soul". This was also the name for Eros'* human lover and when the two figures are depicted they are often surrounded by butterflies.**

There is also an Irish saying that refers to the symbolic meaning of butterflies. This saying is: **"Butterflies are souls of the dead waiting to pass through purgatory."**

There is a small town in Mexico that also associate butterflies with souls. It is to this town that Monarch Butterflies migrate every year, around the holiday known as the Day of the Dead. The people of this town see these butterflies as the returning souls of the deceased.

*****Greek god of love, **Cupid** in Roman mythology

**_SOURCE:_**

http(:)(/)(/)wiki(.)answers(.)com(/)Q(/)What_is_the_symbolic_meaning_of_a_butterfly

http(:)(/)(/)www(.)whats-your-sign(.)com(/)butterfly-animal-symbolism(.)html


	2. Recluse Chuck

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN ANYTHING.**** Not GG nor Sweet Home Alabama.**

**_Author's notes:_** The writers suck. I'm aware writing for tv is different than writing for the stage; tv writers are motivated by events/story, with no serious consideration for its parallelism with characterization. I'm aware GG is a teeny bopper, and the writers and producers could care less if what they're concocting is plausible or in line with characterization, but I still hoped. I hate how they made Blair hypocritical. She did sell out Chuck in 3.06 too. But apparently, Chuck has more faith in their forever. What the hell? For a girl who clung to her boyfriend who was apparently in love with her best friend and slept with said girl, I think this quote from _**Sweet Home Alabama**_ is befitting:

.

..

…

……..

**Stella: **For somebody who's been holdin' onto somethin' so hard, seems pretty quick to let go.

……..

…

..

.

I never really knew readers pay attention to the author's notes. X_x I think my previous author's notes stirred readers to review instead of the fic itself. =_________________________=

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_**Butterflies and Wedding Day Blues**_  
Summary:  
[Set in the future] Blair's not running away anymore. She's going to turn back and chase the elusive butterflies.

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**Chapter II: Recluse Chuck**

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Chuck still kept their official couple photos in his safe. And even after they parted ways, he always made certain to acquire any picture of her at any social event she attended, and some stolen shots provided by his P.I. from time to time. When he would receive the photos, he would glance at them and put it away, never taking another peek except for that initial look. Those photos of Blair were his most prized and treasured collection. They were all kept in brown envelopes which were stored away in the safe, just like his memories and feelings were shut in a vault in his heart.

A week before the wedding date, Chuck locked himself inside his childhood suite after informing the board of Bass Inc. of his indefinite absence. Lily had agreed to take his place for the time he was away so he had no compunction in taking a sabbatical.

Chuck took out all the photos of Blair that he had collected, and began documenting them, tagging them at the back according to what date, what event. He then separated the Chuck and Blair from the Blair only.

He decided to compile all the photos and make a scrapbook. Chuck wouldn't have thought of it if he hadn't been on the same elevator as this little girl who was punching out paper butterflies. She had a decorative paper puncher, and the design so happened to be the shape of a butterfly. While Chuck was riding the elevator with her, she was merrily using the puncher on a colored paper, scattering butterfly punch outs on the floor. Out of intense curiosity, Chuck asked where she bought the decorative puncher, and she named some school supply store before arriving at her floor and getting off. The next day after work, he set off for the mentioned store, and bought the same decorative puncher as that little girl. He also caught sight of a decorative paper, tinted white embossed with butterflies. He bought packs of it, along with assorted colored papers, glue, and scissors. For some reason, he stored what he bought at his old suite in the Palace, 1812. With materials bought on a whim, he decided that maybe scrapbooking might actually help him get through the week he had been dreading.

Call him stalker; the romanticist in him preferred secret admirer. Call him effeminate; the romanticist in him preferred bittersweet.

It took him two days to properly tag about five years' worth of photos. Afterwards, he decided to start scrapbooking the Blair photos, and he considered sending it to her as a wedding gift. It took him five days. He saved the Chuck and Blair photos for last, which he would keep safely hidden.

He hadn't left the suite for the week. So consumed with his personal project, he could not even bother with communication outside the suite. He wouldn't have bothered to eat if the room service didn't come to automatically provide him with meals (courtesy of his stepmother's orders to the Palace staff not to stop knocking until he took in the food prepared). The only personal task that had him pausing in his project was grooming. He still continued to bathe and shave everyday as he refused to appear dishabille; he felt like he still had to look respectable when facing Blair, even if it was only her in pictures.

Chuck also drank, but never heavily during the day, only enough to create a buzz in his head. It was in the evenings (it reminded him that his personal doomsday was looming closer) when he would imbibe himself in alcohol so he would be able to fall asleep later.

If he was drunk, he could pretend that the headache numbed the heartache, as if the sordid pounding of his hangover overwhelmed the longing pain of his heart. He could not suppress it anymore, and figured if he were to move on in acceptance, he needed to start grieving.

Chuck had gone to visit his father's grave just last month with the customary bouquet of yellow roses. Bart's epitaph had become a sort of confessional for Chuck, and as he sat in front of the stone slab bearing Bart's name, he found himself crying as he talked about giving up Blair even though he didn't want to. Blair was the only subject he spoke of to his father's grave (he never spoke of Blair outside the cemetery), and it usually comforted him (he wasn't sure if it was due to the subject or the recipient of his monologue). But that time, he had learned that Blair was getting married, and all forlorn hope disappeared like the smoke of a dead candle. He felt embarrassed at the show of tears, in front of his father's grave no less, but when he stood and wiped away the evidence of crying on his cheek, he went off in peace with the world, in a resignation of sorts as he admitted defeat. He could never let her go, but he could just let her be.

Chuck then made arrangements the next day to get Blair the opening in the Plaza Hotel, the very thing she was agonizing about in all her wedding preparations (he had heard from Eric during brunch). It would be like prom night all over again, he decided. He would just sit back in the shadows, content with the knowledge that he had a hand in her happiness.

On the morning of the BIG DAY, Chuck started drinking the moment he woke up. For the first time, he called room service and demanded for éclairs to be brought up. He remembered that his choosing the dessert as his favorite had nothing to do with its taste but more with its name.

He continued on with his project of course, sorting out their pictures together and punching out butterfly holes on bare spaces of the photos. He let the butterfly punch outs spread on the floor simply because he liked it; it served as a comfort to be surrounded by butterflies.

He never glanced at the clock, but with its ticking, his heart tightened its grip on despair, but he kept on with his project, punching out butterflies on the corners of their photographs while downing sip after sip of Scotch to act as anesthetic. Johnnie Walker Black Label, to be exact, was his choice of toxic mithridate for the day, as he had selected vodka for the preceding days.

He continued drinking while making butterfly holes in the pictures, until he finally had to surrender to the lethargic effects of scotch in his system. Trudging to the bed, he fell on the mattress, sleeping only on the left side because her side of the bed was occupied by photographs and butterflies. Dozing off, he decided to resume his scrapbooking venture if he woke up.

It was the soft press against his lips that stirred him into semi-consciousness. It was the tang of salt on his lips that made him wonder enough that his eyelids struggled to open under the weight of drunkenness. Even in the haze of alcohol, he could see her clearly. He wondered if this was what a mirage felt like for a man deliriously desirous of something that existed out there in the world but was not within sight or reach.

Chuck wondered if he was dead, if his unhealthy alcohol consumption had finally induced cirrhosis to kill him. He couldn't decipher if this was heaven, because there she was, so lovely drabbed in pure snow white, or if this was hell, because she was crying most probably because of him.

"You're here…?" Chuck whispered groggily.

Blair was hovering over him, her brown curls creating a curtain of privacy between them. She nodded slowly, and more tears fell from her eyes to land on his cheeks and dribble down on the planes of his countenance.

At a loss due to disbelief and inebriety, Chuck's left hand lingered in the air, afraid to reach out to the image in front of him lest it should vanish. But the feel of her tears were too real, so he dared to feel her cheek with the tips of his fingers, and he wiped at the damp trail left by her tears.

Blair placed a hand on his cheek and leaned down to capture his lips in a soft kiss before pulling away and beaming at him, her smile a rainbow through the drizzle of her tears. "I love you too," she whispered, gazing beyond Chuck's brown orbs and deep into the depths of his person.

As Chuck's breath caught in his throat, he thought the world had paused in just a second of refrainment. Or maybe, he had finally started to breathe, after his heart had been in a standstill since five years ago.

With a hand on her nape, Chuck pulled her face to his to connect their lips in a fervent kiss. For the life of him, Chuck could not remember his first kiss, but he always thought kisses with Blair were what first kisses should be like. Because, in many ways, she always felt like his first, and he was definite that she would be his last.

Unwillingly, Chuck gently urged Blair's lips away from his with his hands on her cheeks. He stared at her familiar brown eyes, as if seeing if she would disappear like a mirage, but it did not take him long to convince himself that Blair really was here in his suite, in front of him, kissing him and saying those words that was so precious to them.

Sitting up, Chuck, without letting go of his hold on Blair, leaned his back on the head board for support. Blair adjusted to his new position as Chuck's hands went from cupping her face to enclosing over her hands and laying them on his chest. He looked down at her left hand and ran down his forefinger over her ring finger, noting the significant absence of a certain piece of jewelry.

"You're not married."

Blair shyly averted her gaze to their hands. She flipped her hands so their fingers could fill the spaces in between each digit like a puzzle piece, and just like that, it gave her a sense of completion.

"The man at the altar wasn't the one I wanted to run to."

"So you ran away from him?"

A corner of Blair's mouth tilted slightly. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Chuck swallowed and nodded, and his eyes watered, but it may be the alcohol aftereffects still muddling his mind or the absolute relief at having her here with him after all the years of waiting that he allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of her. He wanted to sag against her, a moment of reprieve from the past five years of having to hold himself up after losing her.

Chuck realized that this was it. He had resolved years ago that if he was ever given an opportunity for her to listen, or another chance to be with her, he would definitely speak with his heart in his throat. He was going to be honest, and tell her everything unspoken, words unsaid that echoed in the emptiness in his heart, that he still kept in his breast pocket.

"I'm sorry, Blair. I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely, feeling the tears clog his throat as he prepared to bear his bleeding heart on his sleeve.

"We fought with each other so much, but when the time came, we didn't even fight for each other."

Blair shook her head. "I was weak, Chuck. I used you and hurt you too. I did the same thing, but you still stood by me. I did it to you so many times, even before we were together. But, when the situation was reversed, I bolted instead of trying to resolve everything. I was acting so self-righteously but I was such a hypocrite. I'm sorry too."

Chuck nodded, acknowledging that he heard her, and accepted her apology. But he would not let it deter his determination to speak his part. "I strove so hard to prove my father wrong, that I ended up just like him. But I didn't feel victorious. I was wrong, Blair—"

"Chuck—"

"No, Blair. I shouldn't have done that to you. My father's dead but you're alive. You're here with me. You believe in me and my father didn't. It's time I stop pleasing the dead. I can't change his mind anymore."

"You don't have to forget about him. You just have to make peace with his memory. I understand all too well about wanting to earn your parent's approval."

He looked down in shame and tightened his grasp on her hands, as if to ensure that she wouldn't be able to draw away from him and leave. "I stepped on your heart to reach higher. I did that because I didn't want to end up as my dad expected. I exploited your love and I was conceited enough to think that I was entitled to do it because of love and that what would happen afterwards was just a little tiff we could get past."

"You don't need to be better than Bart or show that you can be just as business brilliant as he was. Chuck Bass is fine by me."

Blair understood why he did it. It wasn't that he took her for granted, but when the time came to choose between her and Bart, Chuck had chosen Bart. Chuck had always believed that his father died, bitter at his own son. And Chuck, who had the utmost respect for his father despite the man's parental misguidance and neglect, did all he could to oust his father's negative notion of his son's capabilities. Chuck never told her, but she knew it was the only way Chuck could think of to at least redeem himself to his father. But no one could gain a dead man's forgiveness or approval.

"I know now that I can prove him wrong in more ways than in business," Chuck squeezed Blair's hand to express his resolution. "I can be the man he never was."

He had destroyed the one person who meant the most to him, all because of his father. He was the reason Chuck didn't go to Tuscany, and he was the underlying reason Chuck sold her out for a hotel. Chuck's issues with his father that were never going to be resolved were what drove him to consider the offer for the dirty deed. But he was done. Chuck was done blaming and loathing a dead man. It was time he faced the consequences of his actions instead of looking for the rationale behind his decisions. He had to start coming up with solutions instead of aimlessly searching for a cause or motive to justify his course of action. He wouldn't deny how lowly he had sunk; he would instead make up for it with the present and the future. Because that was all he could do. He could not erase the painful past, but he could try as much as he could to compensate for his past mistakes in the present and ensure that the same would not happen in the future.

"If you choose me, I swear that everyday of my life will be dedicated to being that man. Because I can't be that man without you," Chuck gently pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm not Chuck Bass without you."

Blair smiled and felt tears overcome her vision. "And I can't be Blair Waldorf if I'm not with you."

So this was what it felt like, to cry in sheer happiness because all the sadness carried in the heart finally come pouring out. Chuck had never cried in happiness before, and he would later learn that Blair had also never had such an experience until that moment.

Chuck let go of her hands to place his hands on her nape to pull her head closer until their lips met in a fervid kiss with traces of a salty sadness that was slowly ebbing as a result of rekindling the heart with a former flame.

Chuck broke their kiss but did not let much distance come between them as he nuzzled his nose to hers, taking a moment to breathe in and savor the tranquility of the moment of reunion. "Can you say it twice?" He requested with a shy grin. She giggled and declared those precious three words, eight letters in between pecks on his smiling lips.

"I missed you," Chuck whispered as he inhaled the scent of plumeria **[1] **from Blair's brown curls as he held her close. "I love you, Blair Waldorf. So much, that it consumes me."

"Chuck Bass, I love you," Blair whispered in his ear, relishing in their embrace, and silently thanking whoever orchestrated the miracle of sending the butterflies to guide her back to him.

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**_A/n:_** Last part! Meant this to be a one-shot, but became longer. XD I must say, I have never been so fixated on details before. I have to say, I did my best to make sure that every single thing had some deeper layer of meaning. =_______= whew. Very difficult to write in the sense that I had done some extensive research and consideration on a lot of details. I might consider an epilogue for the morning after or maybe after several years. XD I'm not sure. I'm still in the grueling process of writing my thesis (I got 1 play down, 2 one-act plays to go!) so I'm trying not to imbibe in fics too much.

And damn, the new PROMO for Chair. I am so goddamn PISSED. It just made me more irate because of the new guy, but better him than Dan, I guess. FUCK FUCK FUCK THEM!!! The production must be having budget cuts if they're starting to hire amateurs to write for them. And fuck the producers. They have been so off-key with how Chuck and Blair deal with problems, that I feel their dynamism slipping. The show is ruining Chair! I am so outraged that I actually cried at some point while writing this fic because of the new promo! I'm so horrified of how affected I am! I didn't think I was so emotionally invested in Chair. T~T I'm so frustrated with how pathetic the writers made them to be after all the suffering they went through before getting together! ARGH!!!

CHAIR FANS (esp fanfic writers) KEEP THE CHAIR FLAME ALIVE!!! ~Because, quite apparently, the inept writers and producers can't. Ugh.

**[1]** The flower meaning of Plumeria:

Hawaiian Meaning

For Hawaiians, plumeria **represents perfection and the bond between everything good**. In addition, plumeria is the **symbol of new life, springtime and re-creation of the nature**.

Chinese Meaning

In China, plumeria flowers are tokens of love. In China, it is not accustomed to share personal feelings, but giving a plumeria flower to your sweetheart **has the same meaning as saying "I love you" or "You are special."**

Hindu Meaning

In Hindu culture, plumeria flowers **represent loyalty**, and young brides wear plumerias in their hair on their wedding day to show their loyalty to their new husbands.

**_SOURCE:_** http(:)(/)(/)www(.)ehow(.)com/facts_5562857_meaning-plumeria-flower(.)html

***Constructive criticism is most welcome, since I didn****'****t edit this chapter as dutifully as the previous chapter because I wanted to post this ASAP.**


	3. Note: Please read

First of all, I would like to thank all my reviewers:

stardustshop  
wrighthangal  
ronan03  
gallaghergrl  
Guardian Izz  
HnM skinnys  
ana-12.  
xoxochuckandblairxoxo  
nondescriptf  
Gennyxoxo  
svenjen

You don't know how much your feedback has fed fuel to my drive in writing Chair fics. I've decided to post an epilogue, for you anyone who's still interested in this fic. I'll maybe replace the content of this section in the future, once I've gotten down to writing the epilogue. I've never asked for the readers' decision on the story, because I tend to plot down the story and write the synopses and titles of the chapters before actually posting, so I'm a bit slow in starting the epilogue. Err... you do want an epilogue, right?

Anyways, I thought I'd post this reply to one of the reviewers (she actually reads and reviews my other Chair fics too! XD). I thought you readers might be interested, since this discusses a few things about the fic and my view on Chair. It might help you understand the fic more.

To **Guardian Izz**,

Sorry, I can't seem to pm you... I actually wanted to reply to your review. I owe you one, since your reviews are so lengthy and detailed. XD You don't know how much I enjoy seeing long reviews (as long as they're not flames of my pairing T~T) because it means that my readers have been imbibed with my story, which always makes me giddy. XD

Anyways, you raised a lot of good points. I did take this fic very seriously and every detail was made with great consideration. Even the descriptions weren't haphazardly made. I don't know if you read the butterfly trivia in the 1st chappie, because I actually incorporated the butterfly symbolisms. That plus, the fate factor. I wanted to incorporate signs leading to the inevitability of Chuck&Blair. I don't know if anyone noticed, but the little girl in the elevator Chuck and Blair encounter with the butterfly punch-outs is actually the same, one signpost of fate in the story.

I'll try to justify some points of mine and explain why I went that way.

It's sad to know that you didn't like the ending. But I respect that, since everyone is entitled to their own tastes and preferences. But I have to say, even though I wasn't able to reply to your first review, I did take into consideration what you said there (_"...he will spend the rest of his life trying to convince her that he is worthy of that trust"_), and I have to thank you for inspiring the Chuck apology. I'm glad you liked it, because I put greater consideration to it after reading your review. If I hadn't gotten that, I realize this chappie would've been a lame apology and sappy reunion. X_x There's nothing like pressure to squeeze out the creative juices from your brain. XD XD XD I should actually dedicate the apology to you! XD XD XD

And about the scrapbooking, I wanted the suite to be filled with photos of Chair when Blair entered to let her remember their good times (hence the flower meaning of plumeria: represents perfection and the bond between everything good... symbol of new life, springtime and re-creation...), At the same time, I wanted Chuck to take a trip down memory lane as well, albeit earlier than Blair. It's a sort of tribute of his to Blair and their time together. In the process of reminiscence, they remember and rekindle what they have. By going back, they realize they want to walk forward together. I wanted a grand gesture. Sorry, but I think just buying peonies and saving a butterfly punch out would be a downplay. I hinted prom night. Chuck filled out all the ballots himself. He could've hired and bribed others, but he didn't.

But more importantly, what I wanted the 2nd chap to contain was a rationale behind Chuck's decision. I wanted Chuck to explain in his own words why he did it, and I wanted him repentant. He's not saying it's not his fault, he's not blaming her, he's not telling her she's at fault too, he's explaining why he came up with his decision. But I didn't want it just on Chuck's part, because truth is, it's not just Chuck's fault. The flaws in their relationship aren't just on Chuck's side; Blair's also made a few mistakes. I'm not favoring either one because Blair wasn't the perfect girlfriend.

As for the parallelism, I'll have to dissect 3.06 and 3.17. Here is how I see it:

I choose not to compare both instances by magnitude. Bottom line is, they both used each other for a gain. In Kantian ethics, it's using humanity as means to an end (considered immoral in that particular doctrine), instead of as an end. I believe that the argument will never end if we have to weigh which is the heavier fault.

I've considered the circumstances of both situations, and I found some overlooked features on Blair's side of the wrong. In ep06, Blair's motivation was inane and her goal shallow; her situation did not call for desperate measures. She used Chuck to acquire the opportunity to deliver a speech, which was just a small-time aim to acquire her ultimate goal of conquering NYU. She exchanged Chuck's trust for a measly toast. Chuck, on the other hand, was driven by desperation. The Empire was not just his business, it was sort of a tribute to his father's legacy (Chuck's grievances in 3.17 were all about his father's disappointment and not about loss of profit). I dont think Chuck would react that much if it were Victrola stolen from him.

Also, let's consider the fact that Chuck was publicly humiliated by having it broadcasted to a crowd by Blair herself while Blair's was private with a few people privy to it.

I think the gravity of Blair's sell out was downplayed because we see them next ep as still talking and such. If Chuck were in character, he wouldn't be so forgiving. He would've avoided Blair as much as possible, he would've moped around some more, played hard to get. Chuck didn't really react the way he would've. They just shoved it under the carpet. There was the 'detached distrust'. I also didn't like it when in 3.18, Blair just gives up so easily and ends the relationship, even though the love is still there (symbolism: Blair popping the balloon herself in 3.18). Uhm, she forgave Nate after learning that he slept with Serena while she was in proximity? Didn't even put up that much of a fuss? Held on to Nate even when she learned he was going to use her for the Captain's deal?

Like I said, I didn't like the writers' direction. We are talking about Chuck who couldn't get it on with other girls after the Hamptons incident, and then breaking up with the love of his life, he hooks up with another girl before getting hammered. That's why I call the writers amateurish, because in every story, you need the characterization and the plot to be intwined. But they just want to create a big scene/uproar/shock without considering whether its OOC or not. *rolls eyes*

I think you're being too biased towards Blair. X_x I'm a feminist, but rationally examining the situation, I find that both parties are at fault.

P.S. Uhm... I don't think Chuck knew Nate would be meeting Serena in 1812 back in S01.

* * *

Oof. In-depth discussion and insight on Chair. OMG. I cannot believe I wrote a sort-of manifesto on Chair. =________________________= I have no life, apparently, if I'm dissecting GG in depth. T~T

I really need to finish my thesis. T~T

Afterwards, I'll get on with the epilogue ASAP.


	4. Epilogue: Reunion Blessed by Butterflies

**_Author's notes:_** I now deliver the promised epilogue. I had three different thoughts of what this epilogue would contain, but I decided to just create a mash-up of all three, since the theme of the epilogue is reunion, and all three parts show a union between Chair. This is one long chapter, and I hope the length preoccupies you people as well as remind you of Chair. =______________________________= I want my Chair happy ever after, and even with the writers' destruction and perversion of my ship, and as I am in the phase of bemoaning and lamenting them, I will work hard to preserve Chair by writing fics. I shall hold on to the memory of a bitter&sweet past. T~T My dream right now is to see Catheryne update her Chair fics, and it came true. ~_~

*****I forgot to include in my explanation earlier: to add to the reminiscence effect, I resurrected 1812 (and because I didn't want the setting to be in the Empire). It's supposed to be a metaphor for his heart, besides the vault. _**"And although it was now vacant, Chuck never opened it for others."**_ I don't know if anyone noticed, but if you isolate this sentence from the paragraph, the 'it' may pertain to his heart and not just to his room. So his memories are locked in his heart, hence the scattered pictures in his room. That's why it was imperative that they meet once again in a room, more specifically, 1812, and not just anywhere, along with the Chair photos. And I also had a teeny change in ch01, just lowered the grade of the returned ring.*****

I'm fucking pissed. I heard somewhere about Chuck sharing not just a kiss but hooking up with the "who's that slut?" Willa was pertaining to in 3.19. Heard THAT ATROCITY was the OMFG moment of s03 finale. And then I saw the UK promo for the finale. F--k. If it is true, Chair has been ruined beyond salvation. JS and SS are F--KING FAILURES and I seriously don't know how they got into the business, and I don't know how SS got an MA and a PHD with her apparent LACK OF TALENT. But you know, they're kind of inspirational. If they can make it even with their apparent inadequacy in talent then we can make it.

**Btw, DISREGARD THE BULLSHI~T OF post 3.18/3.19/3.20 when reading this fic.**

**§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§**

_**Epilogue: **_

_**A Reunion Blessed by Butterflies**_

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_**Love is like a butterfly,**_

_**it goes where it pleases**_

_**and it pleases wherever it goes.**_

_**Love is like a butterfly,**_

_**hold it too tight, it'll crush,**_

_**hold it too loose, it'll fly.**_

_Author Unknown_

**[1]**

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Chuck awakened, his consciousness resurfacing even behind closed lids. Blinking to clear his mind heavy from the alcohol's effect, his head turned to his right side, and found only the pictures occupying the space beside him.

Swallowing the threat of tears, he raised an arm to cover his eyes. He was alone.

She was probably in her honeymoon suite with her husband at this particular moment, while he was left only with grief and memories. She was probably waking up to the face of her husband who had spent the whole night making love to her. Blair probably had their travel itinerary, had made a list of places to visit and activities to partake in during their honeymoon. He, on the other hand, was waking up to the captured moments of their short-lived romance, and he would definitely just be continuing his lachrymal project as a sort of attempt to get through his loss.

The happenings of last night, her in his suite, must've been an inducement of the weeklong alcohol binge and his wishful fantasy of the past five years. Perhaps delirium and melancholia had come together to spin a phantasmagorical manifestation of his deepest longing.

Imprisoned in murmurings of regret and remorse, Chuck did not notice the very soft thud on the wood of his side table. But what pulled him out of the darkness of his closed eyes was the fingers that ran through his hair. A bit startled by the physical contact, he gasped as he lifted his right arm acting as a blindfold.

Blair leaned in front of him, curiously looking at him. She was dressed in his purple satin pajama top, its sleeves reaching up until her thumbs , its hem barely covering her thighs midway. The mattress dipped under her weight as she sat beside him and reached out for something at the side table. Blair held a glass of murky liquid close to his stunned face.

"For your hangover."

Wordlessly, he took the proffered glass of panacea for inebriation. He drank the concoction continuously and tipped the glass high until the last contents of the hangover fix was consumed and nestling in his stomach, soaking the alcohol in his system.

Blair stood up. "I called room service earlier and asked for food."

An inexplicable pain coursed through Chuck's chest as he watched her walk away to retrieve the cart. He had felt this way when she wordlessly left him when he sent her off after he had destroyed her reputation with that Gossip Girl blast, when she turned away from him to get in the car of that lord when Chuck couldn't say the sentence that would've made her stay, when the elevator doors closed on her face as she threw the peonies back at him, when she got up from her seat with watery eyes as he told her it was just a game, when she told him goodbye after learning his treachery, when she ended their short-lived relationship. It was irrational, but the sight of her back felt as if she were that much farther from him, just out of his reach. The scariest part was the possibility that she would never return. Gazing and longing from afar was less painful than having her near and watching her walk away. Was this the exact agony Blair felt when he left her at the rooftop in Brooklyn as she held back in saying the three words, eight letters he demanded, when he confronted her on why they couldn't say it after their missed chance in Brooklyn, when he left her at the sidewalk after her confession, when he scoffed at her for playing the wife, when he pushed her aside after the second time she told him she loved him? If it were the same torment, Chuck vowed never to put her through it again.

"You keep making sure I eat right, but you have an even unhealthier diet." Blair lightly scolded as she wheeled the food cart near the bed (Chuck barely noticed that the photos scattered on the floor were gone, picked up and put away by Blair earlier while he slept). She stopped in front of him, the food cart parallel to the bed, and she started browsing the assortment of food, her back turned to him.

"Don't think éclairs are sufficient substitutes for full meals."

Silently, he reached for her hand and tugged, causing her to angle her body towards him. Chuck pulled more insistently, until she took the few steps closer to him. Slowly and wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her midsection and held her close, his cheek on her chest. His eyes were closed, savoring the feel of her heart and the warmth of her skin, and she in turn wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers submerging itself in the strands of his black hair.

"Chuck?" She called out as he had been immobile and silent for some time now.

"I just want to feel you near me. It's been so long…" He whispered against her. "I thought last night was no more than a drunken delusion."

Blair leaned her head down, burying her nose in his disheveled morning hair as her lips lay on top his head. She could understand his need to ascertain himself, and allowed him the moment of reassuring reprieve from his incredulity. She then closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his warmth so close to her.

"I hope you don't mind, I used my favorite pajama top of yours."

He chuckled and slightly shook his head. "It looks better on you, anyway."

"And I left my wedding dress in your walk-in closet. That dress takes too much space to just be lying around the suite."

"I don't mind."

Chuck's eyes were still close as he felt for her heartbeat, but he opened them once Blair pulled away by gently pushing his shoulders. She smiled and held his head in both her hands before she leaned down to tenderly kiss him. "Good morning." She whispered upon his lips.

A corner of Chuck's mouth turned up. "I love you too."

Blair laughed, kissed him again but more soundly this time, before turning to the food cart and pulling it closer to the bed. Blair then returned to him with a croissant in hand, plopping down on his lap, plucking a piece of the croissant and offering it to his lips. He ate the proffered piece and reached for a glass of juice in the cart while Blair took a bite off the same croissant.

That was how they started their morning, with breakfast and giggles. Last night, they slept soundly in each other's arms instead of delving straight into sex, due to Blair's exhaustion and Chuck's inebriety. The ease and lightness of how they interacted that morning reminded Blair of the first time Chuck returned the three words, eight letters that had been long delayed in return. Of course, when they got into the limo, they pounced on each other right away, but when they reached 1812, they just dozed off together and afterwards had a late dinner-in-bed followed by a bath, where they played with the bubbles before they got hot and bothered. They didn't leave the suite for a week, and Blair could remember how carefree those days were; it was as if everything that had weighed her down had been discarded, and she was free from all those burdens, and the rest of the world could fall away but still she would be light enough to take flight on butterfly wings. Blair reckoned, that was what a happily ever after must feel like: definitely not an end, but rather a beautiful beginning stretching forever.

"Do you remember back in elementary when I used to call you Chuckie?" **[2]** Blair casually brought up the stray memory as she popped a grape in her mouth.

Chuck munched on a blueberry muffin. "Because it was the name of your favorite chocolate drink." He swallowed and kissed her nose. "I remember I retaliated by declaring éclairs as my favorite dessert."

She persistently called him Chuckie during elementary, but stopped the nickname during middle school when Eleanor forbade Blair to anything close to chocolate or its amount of calories and insisted on a strict diet for her daughter. But even then, he never destablished as his favorite the pastries rhyming with her name.

"Do you still like it?"

Blair grinned and reached out for a glass on the food cart. It was only then that Chuck noticed it was chocolate milk, and Blair hadn't indulged in it since Eleanor banned it. "Just because I stopped drinking it doesn't mean it's not my favorite anymore." She took a hearty sip and then put away her glass. Chuck was amused to see a wet brown smear on the sides of her upper lip, the slight outline due to the rim of the glass. Chuck quickly swooped in and licked the remaining smudge that left a tinge of the taste of choco milk on the tip of his tongue. Encouraged by Chuck's sensuous move, Blair suckled his lips, and he took the kiss deeper when he delved his tongue inside her mouth.

Blair repositioned herself, her legs straddling him as they never broke the connection of their mouths. She felt heat ignite from deep inside her and the palpitation in her chest felt like mad fluttering of butterflies attempting to escape. This intensity that burned her insides were lacking in the few romantic relationships she had been in, and the building simmer of passion made her gasp for air, but it was like taking deep gulps of fresh oxygen after being stranded in a mine. Chuck broke the kiss to suckle her neck, slowly pressing his tongue to feel the throbbing on her pulse point while he slowly unbuttoned the pajama top she wore. He slowly bared her shoulders, laying kisses upon it and across her collar bone, before discarding her top completely. But while he was taking his sweet time in devouring her, she seemed too impatient and ravenous. She quickly rid of his pajama top by ripping it before pushing him down on the bed and nipping the pale flesh of his neck. He turned them so he was on top and resumed their vigorous make-out while his arm swept at the side so the pictures would be moved out of the way, giving them more space.

By the time they finished, both were out of breath, panting in exertion as the aftermath of overwhelming desire pumped their blood and drove their impassioned frenzy. Chuck's nose was buried in the nook of her neck while Blair's hands lay at the curve of his lower back. They were still physically connected; Chuck didn't make a move to pull out and Blair wasn't complaining. It took a while for their breathing to slow in pace.

"Chuck?" Blair called out after a few minutes of tranquil silence.

"Hmm?" Chuck pulled away to gaze at her but made no attempt to dislodge from her.

Blair raised a hand and cradled his face, perfectly sculpted into her palm. "Let's stay together this time. No matter what."

He gently kissed her. "I don't want to lose you again. And I'll make sure I won't."

Chuck sat up, causing him to pull out and making her whimper, but he lifted her to him, an arm around her waist while she wrapped her left arm around his neck to steady herself as she straddled him. At the corner of his eye, he saw a butterfly punched out from photo paper, so he leaned sideways to pluck it from the sheets.

"I promise you." He then took Blair's free hand and placed the butterfly in her palm, then had her enclose her fingers over it by enfolding her smaller hand in his. He lay a kiss on her closed hand, sealing his oath.

Blair swallowed; it seemed as if her heart had leapt and lodged itself in her throat. Her eyes closed in surrender as she kissed him chastely, nuzzling his neck when she pulled away. "I don't believe in promises," _Because they can be broken like hearts_. "But I believe in you."

**§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§**

_**~An Irish Blessing~**_

_**May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun.**_

_**And find your shoulder to light on.**_

_**To bring you luck, happiness and riches.**_

_**Today, tomorrow and beyond.**_

**[1]**

**§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§**

The sunlight was barely lighting up the room they were currently staying in. Blair was awake and with her legs underneath her as she sat beside Chuck, just studying his somnolent features. His hirsute chest wasn't covered by the satin sheets, and her fingers traced his features like a soft breeze on his face. He did not move nor twitch to indicate a sense of disturbance, so she continued to softly trail her fingers through his neck and to his chest. Reaching the area of his heart, Blair flattened her palm on top of it to sense the muffled beating underneath muscle and bone.

He stirred from sleep at the feel of her hand atop his heart.

"Good morning, husband." Blair leaned down to kiss him chastely on the lips. She then repositioned herself to lay down next to him, cuddling at his side and resting her head on his outstretched arm.

"I love you too, Mrs. Bass," Chuck responded as he punctuated his greeting with a deeper kiss, his tongue past her lips and stroking the caverns of her mouth. She moaned into the kiss, welcoming his tongue in her mouth by brushing her own tongue against his.

This was their first morning as husband and wife. After three years of being together plus another year of engagement, they finally reached this new destination.

When Blair, boycotting her own wedding, went to Chuck in 1812, they decided to work harder to make things work. Of course, they still fought, they still quarreled from time to time. But even so, there was something different, something stronger that bound them together. Unlike their previous short-lived relationship, they were now more open with each other, more faithful. The main problems of communication and trust from before were now gone. The distance gave them the opening to contemplate and inspect what went wrong when they were together, as if the time apart had prepped them for the second time around, made them aware of the problems they had back then so they didn't have to encounter it with each other again and fail. The two of them shared more than the accounts of their day at work or the lovemaking during the night. They understood that love was beyond an emotion, it was a commitment **[3]**, as they finally grasped the breadth and depth of their vow to one another: _the worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you've ever had, I will stand by you through __anything_. They also discovered that they didn't have to change the core of their beings or every facet of their personality. They only needed acceptance of the flaws in their characters, and it was like seeing the beauty in a kaleidoscope, like the appreciation of a glass art made from various broken glass pieces of different colors fused together, more astonishing than clear, blemish-free glass. Even when they hurt each other occasionally but never intentionally, they understood that loving someone also carried the risk of being hurt. To promise to never hurt the other was futile, but they could only swear never to hurt the other deliberately, nor use the other as a pawn for one's own benefit. They weren't just partners in the relationship sense, they were partners in every aspect they could work together, whether in scheming a takedown or planning a social event. They never rid themselves of their manipulative nature nor their mischievous streak; and in likening their circumstances to Chess, they were not players of the game but pieces themselves, the King and the Queen, in which their positions determined the moves of the rest of the pieces. They were either black or white, but never one black while the other white. They were always working with each other, and never against each other, either on the same side or with none at all. Their intimacy had twined their very beings together, and they both found that they would rather be beside each other rather than supporting the other from behind or moving forward without a backwards glance to the other just a pace behind.

Chuck proposed to her on the dawn of his birthday. They had a tradition, that on the eve of each other's birthday, they would stay up together to welcome the daybreak of the birthday. As they lay in bed, the dim glow of dawn peaking through the windows as she presented his gift (a knitted scarf she made for him with their initials, CB and BW at the opposite ends), he told her she could give him a better gift, the best gift actually, without having to spend a dime.

"All it takes is one word," he told her. And Blair, still having no clue, prompted him to tell her. He turned to his side table and opened a drawer, retrieving something she couldn't see before he faced her again and placed a soft kiss on her lips, a hand on her nape pulling her close. He parted their kiss, but his lips lingered just a short breadth away from hers as their foreheads remained skin on skin.

"Just say yes." Blair's breath was stuck in her throat as she felt the sensation of cool metal sliding on her slender digit. They pulled apart, and Blair raised her left hand to see the piece of jewelry on her ring finger. She could barely see through the haze of her building tears, but she could discern the grand brilliance of the grade D diamonds (the centerpiece a round diamond with two smaller pear-shaped diamonds at both sides) even with its modest size, which made the ring seem perfect on her dainty digits, just like her favorite garnet ring passed down to her by her paternal grandmother.

He grinned cheekily at her (a sign of nervousness), but his tender eyes belied his joking take on the matter at the moment. "So, Waldorf. What do you say to being a Bass wife?"

Blair sprang on him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he fell back on the bed when she propelled her body towards him. Amidst the rain of kisses on his lips, she whispered 'yes' repeatedly until they couldn't count how many she had uttered.

After breaking the news in a joint brunch with Blair's and Chuck's families, the engaged couple went in search of a wedding coordinator. When asked for the theme, Chuck, gazing deeply into the brown eyes of his wife-to-be instead of the addressee, kissed the back of his fiancée's hand and answered 'butterflies'. When the wedding coordinator asked for the motif, he expected one or two colors to be named, but he was surprised when Blair gave the same reply, her eyes taking on a wistful, loving look to her fiancé, making the gay planner feel as if he were intruding on the couple whose intense, invisible nexus of the souls were quite apparent in the physical gap between their hearts.

Nonetheless, the cryptic answer made for the "most magical wedding of the century, blessed by Cupid himself" as an article described it.

The wedding served as a fashion event for Waldorf Designs. Blair coordinated with her mother in designing the suits of the groomsmen and the dresses of the bridesmaids and flower girls, the palette of each dress inspired by the patterns and colors on butterfly wings. The result was amazing; all the guests were awed more and more at the designs of the dresses of each one to walk down the aisle, which boosted Eleanor's reputation as designer. Blair's veil was specifically embroidered to depict a panorama of butterflies on flowers, and had been decided as a family heirloom for any daughter she would have.

Several traditional aspects of weddings were modified just to fit the theme. One of the two flower girls dropped flower petals which interspersed beautifully with butterfly punch outs the second flower girl spread along the aisle to create the trail towards the groom. Instead of the tradition of rice thrown at the newlyweds, paper butterflies were strewn in the air by the guests. And rather than white doves released as the church doors opened, a swarm of butterflies were freed to the sky. **[4] **And then, butterfly confetti fluttered around the newlyweds as they had their first dance as husband and wife. **[5]**

When they reached their honeymoon suite, Chuck surprised his wife (carried bridal style) when instead of the typical path of rose petals leading to the bed as well as covering the bedspread, sequin butterflies were substituted. And above the tinted sequin butterflies that also sprinkled the silken sheets, Chuck lay down his bride on a bed of butterflies, his lips already upon hers before they descended on top of the mattress, the couple making love all night in a flurry of butterflies.

It wasn't their first time; they had made sweet, slow love countless times before, and they still had the wild, hardcore sex. But that night had been different. It was like rediscovering themselves once again, and it felt reminiscent of that night in the back of Chuck's limo, a few days shy of her seventeenth birthday. It felt like they were now more intimately connected in every way possible, their existences entwined inevitably, that no matter what vicissitude they were to encounter, they would never part nor be apart. That was the strength of their devotion; they would not let go no matter how painful, because it was more painful letting go.

The newlyweds, just fresh from sleep, made out for a while in the bed, just enjoying the sensual contact of their lips and tongues before Chuck pulled away, collecting a handful of butterfly sequins left on the bedspread only to sprinkle the butterfly décor on her. Blair giggled as Chuck blew on the butterfly sequins he spread across her abdomen, causing ticklish sensations to dance upon her bare skin. They flew off pack by pack at the gusts of Chuck's breath, landing back on the bedcovers. However, a sole butterfly persistently stuck to Blair's skin, right above her navel, due to the sweat. When it was apparent that the butterfly could not be displaced by breath, Chuck moved his hand to pick it up and glided it north, through the cleavage, neck, chin and lips, his kisses and whispered testaments of love following suit, not far from behind as he prepared to once again make love to the love of his life.

**§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§**

_**~Butterfly in the Wind~**_

_**A child is........**_

_**A butterfly in the wind,**_

_**Some can fly higher than others;**_

_**but each one flies the best it can.**_

_**Why compare one against the other?**_

_**Each one is different!**_

_**Each one is special!**_

_**Each one is beautiful!**_

_Author Unknown_

**[1]**

**§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§**

"I can't believe she's finally here with us," Blair muttered through her happy tears as she cradled their newborn baby girl. One of Chuck's hands was on the infant's head, softly stroking the downy cap of sparse hair while his free arm was around Blair's shoulders; the image made was that of Chuck embracing his family.

"She's so small and beautiful," Chuck breathlessly remarked as he couldn't help staring at the little baby, who was currently nestled against her mother's breast, content in her first meal of milk. About 40 minutes ago, it was total pandemonium and panic as Blair was screaming hell at Chuck while gripping his fingers to the point of breaking them, hence the reason he was groaning along with his wife as she pushed. But now, the new parents were basking at the peace and quiet, adoringly observing their minutes-old baby.

"She has your lips." Blair pointed out.

"Her nose is definitely yours." Chuck added.

Blair sighed happily. "She's so adorable," Blair smiled widely as she cooed. "You're just so beautiful, baby. I bet you're the most photogenic infant in the Upper East Side, better than those celebrity toddlers."

Chuck laughed in agreement. "With our genes, I'm not surprised."

The baby then pulled away from Blair's nipple, indicating that she was done and her appetite full. Chuck took over, slowly and gently taking his daughter into his arms as Blair fixed her top and laid down on the pillows, as she had been sitting up while she was nursing.

Chuck smirked as the baby took hold of his thumb, and he kissed the soft skin. "One down, four to go until we can call ourselves the Bass bunch." He joked.

When Blair's pregnancy was recently discovered, they talked about how many children they wanted to have. They both didn't want only one child, Blair was content with just two, but Chuck wanted more than two. When they couldn't decide on a specific number, Chuck produced a dice and stated that the number to appear on it would be the number of children they'd have. At first, Blair pointed out the absurdity of letting chance determine the number of children they should have, but she later on relented, eager to settle down on a definite figure so they could get to the other aspects of family planning. Chuck and Blair enclosed the dice with cupped hands, and they shook it while counting down from three. The dice rolled to five. Chuck was all the more ecstatic with the result, and Blair (perhaps due to the hormones) found that she didn't have any qualms in bearing five children, and began to imagine a townhouse with kids rushing down for breakfast on their first day of school. She found the mental image appealing, and she suddenly couldn't wait for that day when reality would embody her fantasy.

Blair groaned. "Let's wait for at least two years until the next one, okay?" She was certain she had felt intense physical pain to last her a few years (she didn't get an epidural because the size of the needle had scared her). Her mother scoffed at her for choosing natural childbirth as well as her decision to breastfeed, which caused Chuck to wage war on Eleanor when Blair cried at Eleanor's disapproval. Blair had read in one of the pregnancy books that going through a natural childbirth was the first and one of the most intimate steps in forging a bond with her child, and that lactating was the best way to lose baby weight and ensure a better health for the baby, making her intent on natural childbirth for all her children as well as breastfeeding.

Chuck lightly rocked his daughter, not taking his eyes off the infant even as he softly addressed his wife. "Why don't you rest? I can't imagine how tired you are going through all those hours of labor and giving birth."

Blair chuckled, followed with a satisfied sigh as she closed her eyes. Chuck carefully leaned over her and kissed her forehead, slightly tasting on his lips the sweat of her exertion in giving birth. "I'll just take her to see everyone."

"Don't be gone long, Bass. I want her back soon," Blair called out, drifting off to a well-needed nap as Chuck went out of the hospital room to show off their baby to their awaiting family.

For about two hours now, the visitors of the Waldorf-Bass family lounged in the waiting room, anticipating the announcement that would grant them permission to finally visit the expectant couple. They didn't dare enter the hospital room where Blair was confined. Nate had been the first there before anyone to record the grueling process, but he only received screams and threats and hell from his brunette best friends. On Chuck's instruction (the couple was irritated by the blonde's hovering and voiceover comments), he was to wait outside and prevent any visitors from entering the room.

When Chuck showed up instead of the expected nurse or doctor, everyone scrambled towards him to glimpse at the first addition to the Basses.

"Finally, the honeymoon baby," Nate commented as he was the first to approach Chuck, carefully filming the event as he zoomed in on the little tyke in her father's arms.

"Everyone," Chuck's voice proudly addressed his family and friends, "our firstborn. Celastrina Bellevalia **[6]** Bass. Bea as her sobriquet," He couldn't help the large smile on his face as he looked down at the rosy baby swathed in a cloth of pink.

"The name's quite sophisticated to the ear." Cyrus commented and everyone agreed with a few nods and delighted agreements as Harold, with eyes glazing from happiness, cooed 'baby bear' (his chosen endearment) at his granddaughter.

"Well, I absolutely _love_ your choice of name." Eleanor remarked, and Dorota nodded vigorously as she fished out a handkerchief to dab at the corner of her eye, the family's longtime maid overcome with emotion in seeing her ward's first child.

"Well, she's certainly the Belle of the Basses," Harold remarked with a chuckle.

"Hello Bea," Serena softly greeted her niece/goddaughter. "I'm your Aunt Serena."

"And I'm your grandmother, but you don't have to address me as such until after I've had grey hair," Lily chuckled as she slowly drew closer to her adopted son. "Oh, why don't you come to grandma, sweetie?" Lily was holding out her arms in a gesture that proclaimed her intent to take the baby into her arms.

However, Eleanor quickly caught on to Lily's not quite discreet move, so Eleanor made her way immediately in front of her son-in-law. "Seeing that it's my daughter who was in labor for more than 24 hours to bring this baby into this world, I think I should take her."

Lily opened her mouth to protest, but Harold quickly moved to her other side. "You're quite right, Eleanor," Harold backed his ex-wife. "I think it's only right that Blair's side of the family have the honor of being first to hold the baby. But I think Blair bear would most likely prefer _me_ to be first." Harold looked meaningfully to his ex-wife, subtly prodding the fact that he was the favored parent.

"To avoid any unnecessary scuffle, I should be the first to hold her because I'm her godmother and her mother's best friend." Serena moved closer to her stepbrother.

"Hey!" Nate protested. "I'm the godfather. And I'm the father's best friend. Don't I get to hold her first?"

"Silly Natie," Serena teased. "You're holding the camera and you're in charge of filming. How are you going to hold her?"

Nate frowned in confusion, unable to utter a retort to his blonde girlfriend.

It had all started during the baby shower. Chuck and Blair didn't know how the conversation led to it, but Harold had declared the rights to being the first to hold his granddaughter, after the parents of course. Eleanor wasn't one to back down from her ex-husband, and claimed she should be the one (to which Chuck rolled his eyes). Eventually, Lily joined in their competition, and the selected godparents also joined the fray. The dispute over who will be the first to hold the baby continued for the remaining months, and remained unresolved until now. To avoid any commotion, Blair (giving her first breastfeeding) and Chuck decided on a candidate among those in the waiting room at the moment.

"Actually, Blair and I have taken it upon ourselves to choose who will have the honor of holding our daughter first since none of you involved can seem to decide," Chuck grinned and then, gazing past them, "Eric, why don't you come closer so you can hold your niece?"

Everyone turned to the youngest van der Woodsen, who blinked owlishly in surprise. He wasn't even a rival in the run for first dibbs on the baby.

"Me? Really? Great!" Eric smiled widely and eagerly approached his step brother, who slowly transferred the baby into his arms. Softly greeting his niece, Eric's grin stretched across his face, his pearly whites fully displayed in glee as he slowly rocked the baby in his arms.

Eric turned slightly to face the rest, but as he moved, Chuck also moved, maintaining his position in front of Eric. Eric halted the slight bouncing of his arms and then looked up at Chuck, who was just about a foot away in front of him. Although little Bea was in Eric's arms, Chuck's hands held onto Eric's elbows firmly, and it seemed that although the father consented to transferring the baby into another's arms, he wasn't willing to allow distance.

Eric raised his eyebrows to his adopted sibling, signaling a query. Chuck just smirked at his younger stepbrother. "Don't question me, Eric."

Eric just shook his head as he chuckled. "Overprotective already."

After Eric's turn, little Bea was handed over to her maternal grandfather, then to Lily, followed by Eleanor, Serena, Dorota, Nate (he let Serena take over filming duty during his turn), Cyrus, and Roman. Chuck had made a system: the one who was holding the baby would choose who the next one would be. Chuck figured Blair would be furious that his side of the family all went first before hers, so he thought of alternating to be even. It took some time, and when Roman, the last one to hold the baby, handed back the infant to Chuck, the new father felt like it had been far too long since his little princess was in his arms.

"Can we see Miss Blair?" Dorota asked Chuck, who was more smitten now than when he first appeared to them earlier.

"Well," Chuck did not take his eyes off his slumbering daughter. "Blair was resting when I left her, but I think she'd like to have Bea back now. I've been gone for too long when I promised her I'd be back soon. I'll go on ahead and everyone can follow after."

"Okay, everyone," Cyrus merrily called out as Chuck turned, hurriedly but carefully walking to get back to his wife, "Take all the balloons and gifts and relocate them to Blair's room!"

Everyone turned to gather their belonging and gifts of congratulations and well wishes, all of them eager to share the tidings of the happy occasion with Chuck, Blair, and their new baby.

**§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§**

_**~Forever slips from my grasp whenever I reach for it**_

_**But if we hold hands and fill the gaps between our fingers, we can cradle eternity...~**_

**§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§¤º¤º¤§**

**[1] **I got the butterfly quotes from:

http(:)(/)(/)www(.)wedthemes(.)com/butterfly-poems(.)shtml

**[2]** This is a real drink, btw, and I love it. XD I'm aware it was known as Chocolait before (and I think it's only distributed in the Philippines), but for the sake of this fic, I've decided that it has been known as Chuckie from the start. If you're curious as to what it looks like, here is a link to a pic of the drink:

http(:)(/)(/)media(.)photobucket(.)com/image/chuckie%20chocolate%20drink/papalums/chuckie(.)jpg?o=1

**[3] **I actually got this from my sister when they attended a seminar for couples about to be married. The priest asked them what they think love is, and he said, "For most of you, love is a feeling. But that's where you're wrong. Love is not a feeling; it is a commitment." Not really verbatim, but close enough.

**[4] **It's possible. I remember watching a behind-the-scenes of a music video of Secondhand Serenade when he opened a box and butterflies flew out of it. Also, I attended a debut (here in the Philippines, it's more of a coming-of-age party for girls when they turn 18, very unlike what's in GG) party of a family friend, and instead of the traditional 18 candles, butterflies in a basket woven cage were given to us and we were to free the butterflies after our dedications/well wishes to the debutante.

**[5] **I actually saw this done before, but in a concert of Namie Amuro, Live Style 2006, while she sang 'Four Seasons' (beautiful, touching song). The effect was so beautiful; they really looked like they were fluttering! If you want to see the butterfly confetti, watch this clip:

http(:)(/)(/)www(.)youtube(.)com/watch?v=LT1n8lw2cfo  
http(:)(/)(/)www(.)youtube(.)com/watch#!v=EL4Pix_KKG0&feature=related

They're basically the same. But the first link has better audio; the second link has a wider screen.

**[6] **I had actually searched for this name even before this fic was conceived. I wanted to write a fic with Chuck, Blair, and a baby (either a boy or girl). I wanted the initials for the first name to be CB, and pertain to a butterfly and a flower (for a girl) or just a butterfly (for a boy, which I haven't found the right one for). I had to do a lot of extensive search, but I found it!

**Celastrina** is a **genus of butterfly in the family Lycaenidae**. I think they're mostly composed of azures (common name of a type of butterfly).

**Bellevalia** is a **genus of plants in the hyacinth family**.

_Flower meaning:_

Hyacinth symbolizes playfulness and a sporty attitude and in its extreme rashness. Hyacinths also denote constancy. Blue hyacinth stands for constancy (or sincerity), purple for sorrow (or 'I'm Sorry; please forgive me'), red or pink for play, white for loveliness and yellow for jealousy.

I think it has a nice ring to it. -^________________________^- I hope you readers liked the name. To **Guardian Izz**, I know you think that the first Bass baby should be a boy given the Bass lineage, but I can't find a boy name that means butterfly. Well, I actually found two: Papillon and Mariposa. But they just don't sound smooth with Bass. =___________________=

**_SOURCES: _**

http(:)(/)(/)en(.)wikipedia(.)org/wiki/Celastrina  
http(:)(/)(/)en(.)wikipedia(.)org/wiki/Bellevalia  
http(:)(/)(/)www(.)theflowerexpert(.)com/content/aboutflowers/flower-meanings  
http(:)(/)(/)www(.)800florals(.)com/care/meaning(.)asp  
http(:)(/)(/)www(.)teleflora(.)com/about-flowers/hyacinth(.)asp

**_A/n:_**So, I had to write a sappy, quote-ish line about forever at the end. I was inspired, even if it sounds too cheesy. X_x Anyways, I hope you readers liked this epilogue, even with the butterfly overload with a few humorous tidbits scattered near the end. =__________________= But I'm so glad I could incorporate all the butterfly quotes that I found were significant to the theme of this fic. ~^________________________^~

Damn, my first attempt at a more detailed smut. How was it? All I can say is, it was easier to write than I thought. I'd like to thank all the M Chair fics out there. XD XD XD

I got inspired to add the wedding bit because my eldest sister's getting married this May. I'm giving you Chair fans ideas on how to incorporate butterflies in your wedding. XD Chair theme for wedding, anyone? XD XD XD XD

And, err... I realize that Blair has walked away from Chuck more times than he has on her. And I mean the meaningful exits that mean "we're done", and not the "you may have won for now, but I'll be back". I didn't even add the cotillion. And I don't count Chuck's walking out on Blair when he demanded she say the 3w8L, because Blair refused and he did sort of "pursue" her afterwards.

***CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS WELCOME, SINCE I BASICALLY CRAMMED ABOUT THREE SEGMENTS IN THIS AND DIDN'T REALLY GET TO GO THROUGH THE WHOLE THING RELIGIOUSLY.**

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_**You can chase a butterfly all over the field and never catch it.**_

_**But if you sit quietly in the grass it will come and sit on your shoulder.**_

_Author Unknown_

**[1]**

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